


The Man With Two Faces

by WayWorseThanScottish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gryffindor!John, Kissing, M/M, Marauders era, Potions, Potter!Lock, Quidditch, Ravenclaw!Sherlock, i mention a couple characters like snape and the marauders but they're not important, john is the quidditch captain because why not, rugby!john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:22:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WayWorseThanScottish/pseuds/WayWorseThanScottish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Gryffindor rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. He better be good at Potions though, and not a complete psychopath. I don’t know what you guys thought would happen when you set me up with Sebastian Moran, of all people. He’s a lunatic!”</p><p>Molly pursed her lips. “Well, I don’t know, he seemed nice! And we thought you liked the more eccentric type of person, what with the time you dated Xenophilius Lovegood.”</p><p>“Anyway,” Mike cut in. “It’s good that you came down here tonight, since we’ve arranged for him to meet you in five minutes. You probably know him, he’s a fifth year. Don’t worry though, he’s brilliant with Potions.”</p><p>“He better be,” John muttered darkly, as his friends started packing up to leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man With Two Faces

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Człowiek z Dwoma Twarzami- TŁUMACZENIE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4413122) by [Toootie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toootie/pseuds/Toootie)



> As with most fics I write, the title came from a chapter title of another book. This title came from the last chapter of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

John snorted to himself when he saw Potter approach Lily Evans again. Would the boy never get a clue? This whole obsession had started, what, seven years ago now? How could Potter not understand Lily’s intense disgust for his entire being? Well, at least that had been the status quo of the past seven years. But there had been some sort of argument, supposedly Snape was involved… he was a bit fuzzy on the details, mostly because he wasn’t nosy. Anyway, after that fallout, Lily began to talk to Potter and his crew more often. 

Honestly, it shocked John. He and Lily had been friends for so long, casual friends, but she also occasionally confided in him about the most random things. It was mostly because they were both Muggleborn, so at first she had talked to him about her snotty sister Petunia. Occasionally she’d mention Snape… well, he seemed a bit of a sketchy bloke, though frighteningly clever. Of course, if rumours were to be relied upon, Snape wasn’t half as smart as either of the Holmes brothers. And then there was that creepy silent kid in Slytherin in  fifth year… he was Irish, and would get frighteningly loud at times. What was his name again? McCartney? No, his name was Moriarty.

Anyway, John tried to avoid drama at all costs. He was well-liked, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and all that. Still, though, he didn’t attract nearly as much attention as the aforementioned Potter and his crew. They were…. Well, frankly, they were shallow, pig-headed , rude boys who got away with far too much. They did help Remus  though, so they couldn’t be all bad. And Pettigrew could be downright sweet and considerate when left alone. 

He had his fair share of girlfriends though, in the past couple years. He’d actually gotten the nickname Four-Houses-Watson, at least in the boys changing room. What could he say? He didn’t discriminate against girls in different houses. And they had all broken up amicably enough. He’d even dated two boys, if you counted his brief fling with Sirius Black. That had been a mistake, no doubt about it. John had been briefly in awe of the cool rebel, until he’d really gotten to know him and realized what a self-centred, competitive prat he was. And insofar as girls, well let’s see, he’ d dated Marlene McKinnon, Solara Garang , Patricia  Eygenstein , and Alice  Abhar .  The other boy he’d dated had been Xenophilius Lovegood, which had been a wonderfully whimsical relationship filled with awe and exploration. 

And those relationships had been wholesome and healthy, unlike what was going on with Potter and Lily. This flirtation/obsession thing was driving him mad. All he wanted to do, really, was enjoy the Gryffindor common room without the sexual tension/harassment filling up the air. 

With a sigh, John decided to pack up his books and head to the library. He was sure Remus would be down there, having been proactive. Perhaps his friends in Hufflepuff would be down there, Molly Hooper and Mike Stamford.  They’d promised they’d help him understand the properties of potion ingredients and how they interact with each other. 

As it turned out, they were indeed sitting at a table together, talking to a Ravenclaw girl. What was her name again? Ah, yes, Jennifer Wilson. Clever girl, promiscuous, manipulative, but genuinely kind-hearted. 

“Hey guys,” John greeted as he sat down across from them at the table, spreading his Potions text and notebook in front of him. “ I’m glad you’re here, this potions assignment has me stumped.  What’s going on?”

Molly and Mike exchanged a glance, but Jennifer answered. “Someone keeps taking my notes, and

they’re returning them to the exact same spot but with additional information and a few rude remarks. I don’t know who it is, and I’d like to find out…” she blushed. “They seem like they know a lot.”

John raised his eyebrows. “Have you tried writing a note on your… notes, and seeing if they answer?”

Jennifer opened her mouth to respond, but then smiled weakly. “Um… no, I’m embarrassed to admit… I didn’t think of that…”

John shrugged. “Well, I mean, it’s up to you. The person probably is interested in you, if they’re spending the time to read what you write, comment, reference, and return it in pristine condition. I should know, I tried taking my sister’s bus pass for the day, and I returned it exactly where I found it, and she found out. I don’t know how.”

The Hufflepuffs giggled. “Do you really look that much like your sister, John?” Molly asked teasingly.

He grinned self-deprecatingly. “Well, I mean, we’re twins, and she cut her hair really short…” Mike snorted. “Oh shut up. I didn’t want to pay money for a bus pass I’d use two months of the year.”

Jennifer smiled and stood up, gathering her things. “Well, thanks for the advice, John.  Good luck with Potions.”

When she left, Mike and Molly leaned in to John. “So we found someone who’s really good at Potions,” Mike started.

“And he’s really cute too,” Molly confessed, looking John in the eye.

John groaned. “Oh, come on, guys, just because I haven’t dated anyone in, what, three months? Doesn’t mean I’m looking for someone.”

Mike shrugged. “I mean, I’m not into blokes or anything, but I think he’d interest you. Bit of a git, at times, to be sure, but who isn’t?”

The Gryffindor rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. He better be good at Potions though, and not a complete psychopath. I don’t know what you guys thought would happen when you set me up with Sebastian Moran, of all people. He’s a lunatic!”

Molly pursed her lips. “Well, I don’t know, he seemed nice! And we thought you liked the more eccentric type of person, what with the time you dated Xenophilius Lovegood.”

“Anyway,” Mike cut in. “It’s good that you came down here tonight, since we’ve arranged for him to meet you in five minutes.  You probably know him, he’s a fifth year. Don’t worry though, he’s brilliant with Potions.”

“He better be,” John muttered darkly, as his friends started packing up to leave. 

“Oh cheer up, John, we swear he’s not…” Molly trailed off.

“Evil?” Mike suggested.

“He’s not as bad as Snape,” Molly nodded, as if that answered everything.

  
John smiled. “You know, Molly, Potter and Black aren’t as bad as Snape, but I’d rather talk to Snape than them for any length of time.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Don’t be melodramatic. We’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Ta,” John grumbled.

 

****

 

John set about arranging his notes, Accio- ing his quill and ink from the depths of his magically bigger-on-the-inside rucksack. 

“John Watson,” a deep voice interrupted his movement.

He looked up. In front of him was a rather gangly looking Ravenclaw, a good foot taller than him, with dark hair messy enough to give Potter a run for his money. “Sherlock Holmes?” John asked. 

The boy nodded , pushing his overly-large square framed glasses up his nose . “Judging from your notes, you understand enough about potions to perfect a brew, but you’re not too sure about the theory behind it. You’re also thinking about becoming a Healer or an Auror, or something between the two. Wise decision, considering the dark times ahead. Everyone needs a Healer on the battlefield. You’re Muggleborn, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, relatively popular. You have an interesting relationship with your… twin brother? Something in your past was traumatic enough for you to rarely open up to people, so you have many casual friends, but no one you really confide in. Trust issues. So tell me, John, what do you know of chemistry?”

John blushed. Did Sherlock just flirt? Oh, no, of course not, he was probably referring to the Muggle area of studies. Harry had complained about it at length. But weren’t the Holmes brothers pureblood? Which brought John back to the question, was Sherlock flirting with him? John felt kind of uncomfortable about the matter, the kid hadn’t even grown into his frame yet. 

“Um, the Muggle science? I know a bit, atoms, molecules, acids and bases and how they interact with each other. I understood that, but magic is different, isn’t it?” John asked.

Sherlock blushed slightly and took out a huge book.  He flipped a few pages and scanned the page in front of him, pushing up his glasses again. “Um, well, I’ve been analyzing the data I’ve extracted from reactions between potions ingredients versus muggle reactants, and I’ve looked at the chemical composition of the potion ingredients too. They’re quite interesting, if you look at them in depth. Um.” Sherlock’s voice cracked and he had a lisp. If he hadn’t had such a deep voice, John would almost say he was adorable. “So, from what I’ve seen, magic is an inherent property of each ingredient, which is just another factor to consider in reaction rate and properties formed. So you know how atoms are composed of protons, neutrons and electrons, and depending on the element and bond it has certain properties? Well, this is just a theory, but I think magic is one of the elementary particles, like a proton. And, um, what it does, is lend a molecule certain properties, and also lowers the activation energy.”

  
John smiled. “That’s incredible!” he exclaimed. “I can’t believe you analyzed everything like that. I can’t say I understood half of it, though. I’m really sorry, Sherlock, but you’ve lost me. Why don’t we just go over the ingredients in one potion, and then you can tell me how each ingredient interacts to give the potion its properties? That was a brilliant theory, though.”

Sherlock bit his lip. “Dull. But if that’s what you’d prefer.” He shut the book he had been referencing, which seemed to be a high level chemistry text book.

“So, I don’t mean to be rude,” John  hesitated . “But, you seem to really like chemistry? And you have a muggle text book… do you have muggle friends or family, then?”

Sherlock shook his head, his curls bouncing. “My family lives in London, and it’s easy to find a university used book store. My brother’s acclimatized to the muggle world; he now works for their government, though I’m pretty sure he does double time at the Ministry of Magic as well. I found it odd that there were so few Potions masters, and that they had made no attempt to link chemistry with potions. It’s essentially the same subject, but with slightly different reactants. So let’s start off with the Draught of the Living Death.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

From that point forward, the boys met up three times a week, going over each potion in the curriculum in vigorous detail. Their friendship grew slowly, what with John’s rigorous Quidditch schedule along wi th school work, but it seemed friendship crept up on them.

John came in to one study session one time, frustrated beyond belief. 

“Is something wrong?” Sherlock asked, not looking up from where he was furiously scribbling a note. 

The Gryffindor sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. “I don’t know.”

Sherlock ’s brow furrowed and  he  looked up, putting his quill down. “That’s strange. You’re normally quite sure of yourself.”

John leaned forward in his seat, rolling a quill between his fingers. “There’s just a lot going on. I mean, I get that seventh year is supposed to be busy, but this is ridiculous.” He sighed. “Potter and Black are in a fight, and normally I wouldn’t care, except they’re not working well together on the Quidditch pitch, so now it matters. Meanwhile, I have a Chaser who is being a prat and harassing one of the female Beaters, and to top it all off, I have a potions test in two days. Which is the same day as our Quidditch game against Slytherin. Overall lovely.” He huffed and sat back in his chair, looking utterly defeated.

  
Sherlock nodded seriously, adjusting his frames. John had always found it funny that Sherlock wore glasses, seeing as the wizarding world didn’t have an optometrist. Which meant Sherlock had to go to the Muggle world to get them. Not that Sherlock couldn’t cope with Muggles; on the contrary, he seemed to thrive in their world, judging by the fascination he had with their subjects.  But to the point, wizards normally just put a potions tincture in their eyes, and their vision would be repaired. 

“Changing the subject because who wants to listen to my privileged whining all day… Sherlock, why do you wear glasses?” John was admittedly very curious.

Sherlock cocked his head to the side, taken aback by the abrupt change of topic. He shrugged. “They annoy Mummy, and they look cool.”

“Fair enough.”

“They also drive Mycroft around the bend. It was either glasses, or a tattoo. Unfortunately, I need to wait three years before I’m legally able to get a tattoo without parental permission.” Sherlock took off his glasses, inspecting them. “I actually have quite good vision, I just have a bit of trouble seeing things far away. But point me to a microscope or some miniscule piece of data, and I’m fine.”

“So why do you wear them when you’re studying?” 

Again, Sherlock shrugged, his bony shoulders prominent in his school uniform. “I’m used to them. And I won’t lose them, not like I lose things ever. But my things do have a penchant for getting destroyed in experiments if I leave them lying around.” He put his frames in the front pocket of his jacket. “So, why?”

“I’ve just never seen a Pureblood with glasses,” John explained. The frames did suit the Ravenclaw. They were a fashionable to rtoise-shell horn-rimmed frame.

“What about James Potter?”

John shook his head. “Potter is a vain git, probably likes the idea of having a frame around his beautiful face.”

Sherlock snorted. “And you wonder why your team’s dynamics are off.”

“Oi.”

“Why are you telling me about your problems, though? Don’t you normally talk to… ” Sherlock trailed off. Try as he may, he couldn’t remember the names of people who weren’t important. “ Those Hufflepuffs?”

“You mean Mike and Molly? Yeah, they’re nice. They’re too sympathetic though, and I never actually solve problems with them, it’s mostly just making me feel better.” John said thoughtfully. “And besides, they just started dating after maybe three years of pining? So I’m giving them a little space for now.”

“I see. So did you want to go over what makes a bezoar so helpful? It’s to do with the nature of buffers.” Sherlock began.

  
“Nah.” John closed his notebook. “So who do you talk to, when you’re not stuck in the library with me. Thanks, by the way, for helping me. I really should be paying you.”

Sherlock blushed. “No, no, it’s fine. I, um. Well. I suppose insofar as friends, um. I talk to…” he trailed off. “ Idon’treallylikepeople , John.” He explained quickly.

“Sorry, what?” John smiled good-naturedly. “I missed that.”

“I don’t really like people.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t mind you. You’re less of an idiot than the general population.”

“I, er… thank you?” John frowned a bit. “So, what, you don’t talk to  anyone else?”

Sherlock thought hard for a minute. “Well, I suppose I talk to Mrs. Hudson rather frequently. I actually have a permanent appointment with her every Friday, since I tend to forget about dressing wounds from acids and poisonous plants.”

The Gryffindor  tutted . “You really should take better care of yourself.”

“It’s all transport, John. As long as it doesn’t get in the way of thinking, I’ll do it. But dressing wounds takes far too much time that I could have been devoting to research,” Sherlock informed him haughtily. The effect was rather ruined by the fact that the overly large glasses had drooped, and his lisp had become pronounced.

“So you don’t talk to anyone other than Mrs. Hudson and… me?” John couldn’t help but be flattered.

“I have a skull in my room that I used to talk to for hours,” the Ravenclaw mused. “However, my roommates got  creeped out and said that they were going to destroy it if I didn’t stop talking to it. So my skull remains by my bed and I have silent conversations with it.”

“Ah.” John nodded. “So I have a proposal. You don’t mind my company, and Mike and Molly aren’t around… what do you say we go to Hogsmeade together?”

Sherlock frowned. “I normally use Hogsmeade trips to buy books and potions ingredients.”

“That’s fine,” John shrugged. “As long as we grab a butterbeer or two, I’m happy to do whatever.”

 

 

++

 

 

“The waitress is cheating on her boyfriend with one of the kitchen staff,” Sherlock muttered in John’s ear as they sat at the bar, sipping from their butterbeers. 

  
“What? No,” John laughed. “That’s incredible. How do you know?”

And so they spent the rest of the afternoon walking around Hogsmeade, with Sherlock making deductions and John following behind in awe. They stopped in at a bookshop, Sherlock heading straight for the potions section, while John leafed through a couple Healing text books.

Suddenly, a younger boy in Gryffindor interrupted John’s perusing. 

“I’m sorry, um, Watson,” the boy said. “I don’t mean to be a bother, but, well, I’ve lost my toad, and I’m not quite sure where it went. Have you seen it around?”

“Oh, hey Dimmock. Um, I haven’t seen it around, but wait, let me just get Sherlock. I’m sure he’ll find it for you,” John said, quickly heading to Sherlock who looked up  annoyedly from his reading.

“What, John.” He said shortly.

“Um, this kid, Dimmock, he lost his toad. Help me find it?” John asked.

Sherlock shut the book and put it back on the shelves, his fingers lingering on the spine. He sighed dramatically. “Fine. Where’d the idiot last see it?”

What followed from that simple question was a high speed chase through the back alleys of Hogsmeade, and even in through the forest. Despite the fact that John was the fitter of the two boys, what with Quidditch training during the school year and rugby over the summer, he soon fell behind the long-limbed Ravenclaw. Before long enough, John had lost sight of Sherlock. He stopped, when he noticed the tracks in the snow in front of him were fading with the snow that was falling. “Damn it,” he swore under his breath.

All of a sudden, something cold hit the back of his head. “What the-“

And lo and behold, Sherlock was by a tree off to his right, along with a pile of snowballs. “You wanker! I’ll get you!”

He gathered snow in his hands, and threw it at Sherlock. Sherlock merely grinned and stuck out his tongue. “You’ll have to do better than that, John,” he called out as he threw another snowball. Luckily, John ducked and missed it. 

An idea came to John’s head. He pulled out his wand, smirking and said ‘ Accio snowballs.’  The snowballs came flying towards him, stopping in a neat pile in front of him. ‘ Wingardium leviosa !’

Sherlock laughed from beneath the pile of snow. “Help me out, John,” came a muffled call.

The Gryffindor laughed to himself and reached for Sherlock’s hand, only to be pulled down next to him, and covered in snow. “Oi, rude,” John said, still smiling.

Sherlock’s harsh cheekbones were bright red from the cold. It was strange to see so much colour on his normally pale face.

“Come on, you, let’s go warm up at the Hog’s Head, and get some hot chocolate.” John suggested, standing up and brushing himself off. It was too late though, the snow had seeped in through his cloak

and was soaking his skin.

They quickly hurried to the pub, shivering and laughing in the frosty air. As they sat down near the fire, John realized something. “So we never found that bloody toad, did we?”

Sherlock chuckled, and pulled the toad from his pocket. “I found it at the very beginning, just wanted to see if you’d actually run after me for that long.”

John’s mouth gaped open. “You utter prick. Oh my God. You’re kidding me. You mean I’m soaked for nothing?”

“Ever tried a drying charm?” Sherlock asked.

“Well, I mean,” John grumbled. “Oh shut up.” He quickly cast a drying charm at his clothing, as well as Sherlock’s. 

Dimmock spotted them across the pub and came over with a couple of his friends. “Oh, you found Tabby! Thanks so much, John! You too, Sherlock.”

Sherlock gave him the toad wordlessly and watched as the kid bounded away happily, joining his herd of friends.

“Is life always so adventurous with you?” John asked, smiling.

Sherlock shrugged. “To be honest, I’m mostly researching. But on the off days, yes, I’m running around, solving mysteries.”

“Fantastic.”

 

 

++

 

After that fateful Hogsmeade trip, the boys met up every day, and spent entire afternoons on the weekends together, sometimes even leaving the library to go exploring.

The days grew shorter and shorter as Wi nter break approached Hogwarts  School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“Sherlock, I have to cut this session short to warm up for our Quidditch match, but I mean, if you like, you could attend?” John had said this a couple times now, and Sherlock’s answer varied somewhere between  dull and  Dear Merlin, John, do you really think I’d like to see a ball tossed around for longer than three seconds? No thank you.

This time, however, Sherlock’s answer differed. “Might as well go. Nothing better to do, and I think Mycroft is attending with a few government officials. Something about Hogwarts-Ministry relations and security. It’ll be fun to surprise him.”

“Oh, well, er, great,” John smiled, taken aback. 

  
“Besides, I’ve gone to all your other games.” Sherlock said casually, packing up his rucksack.

John frowned. “What? I’ve never seen you.”

The raven-haired Ravenclaw shrugged. “You fly about too fast to really see anyone in the stands.”

“Why don’t you meet me after games, then?” It would’ve been nice to see Sherlock outside of the library. He’d grown fond of the daft genius.

Sherlock looked out the window. “You’re busy being the captain of your team. Talking to people, congratulations and so on.”

“I’d still like to talk to you,” John smiled.

“Really?”

“Yeah, ‘course, you’re my  best  friend.”

“I’m your friend?”

John cocked his head to the side. Did Sherlock not consider John to be his friend? “I mean… yeah…  I don’t really talk to many people. Well, I mean, I do, I just.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m just more comfortable around you? I don’t know. I have fun when you’re around. You’re interesting. ”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

There was a pause of silence. They heard the students around them shuffling and a quill scratching against parchment paper. 

“So what are-“

“-how is,” Sherlock interrupted. He paused. “No, sorry, you go first.”

“Oh. Um,” John mumbled. “It wasn’t important. I just wanted to ask what you were doing over the Winter Holidays…”

Sherlock’s smile dropped. “Unfortunately, I’m visiting Grandmère in Toulouse with my family, and we won’t be back until mid-February. Mummy insisted, and even when I explained that I had to go to class, Mycroft said that he had arranged for the professors to send me projects to do.” Sherlock frowned and crossed his arms, definitely on his way to sulking.

John’s eyes widened. That was more than two months! “Really? When do you leave?”

Sherlock grimaced. “I, er, well I meant to tell you sooner. But sometime after the Quidditch match today, my brother is meeting me to Floo to our home.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“Well, okay then, you’ll definitely need to say goodbye to me after the match.” John said decisively,

packing up his things. He checked his watch. “God, I’m late. I really should be on the field now setting up.  I’m sorry that I have to rush off so soon.”

“No, it’s,” Sherlock paused. “It’s fine. I’ll see you later anyway.”

 

++

 

John donned his Quidditch kit, and headed out to the field to make sure everything was in order. He checked the air pressure, direction of wind and visibility, and how cloudy it was. Perfect weather for Strategy Gamma. Nodding to himself, and looking up at the stands, he noticed a couple people there. They were much too far to identify, though. It could’ve been Bellatrix Lestrange up there for all he knew.

He went back to the change rooms, and gave his team a quick pep-talk. He was rudely interrupted by Potter making a lewd joke.

“James Potter, I swear to God, I will personally decapitate you and swing your head on the end of my broom if that’s what it takes to get this team to focus, and more importantly, to win. Stop faffing about for God’s sake.” John said threateningly, in a low voice.

The locker room was silent.

“Oh my God,” said a small voice from the younger Beater.

“Sorry, Captain,” Potter said quietly, averting his gaze. Unbeknownst to John, John’s hair was sparking with magic, and his eyes had glowed slightly as he sent out his warning message.

“Excellent. Everyone remember Strategy Gamma?”

A chorus of yeses resounded.

“Perfect. Ready to crush Slytherin?”

 

 

+++

 

 

John’s strategies went over perfectly over the game, especially with the overcast sky. They beat the Slytherins 270-250, a close game all in all. As John flew around the sky for his victory lap, he checked the stands for his bespectacled friend, and the Ministry representatives. Luckily, the government officials seemed unscathed, meaning Mycroft had probably gotten control of his brother quickly.

Chuckling to himself, John descended to be greeted by the Gryffindors. It was a crowd, he could

barely say thank you to all the people congratulating him. He tried looking around for Sherlock, but the tall Ravenclaw was nowhere in sight. 

His joy significantly decreased, as he made his way to the showers. Perhaps Sherlock would meet him later?

 

 

++

 

As John headed up to the Gryffindor dormitories, he thought about Sherlock. He wouldn’t be seeing his friend for over two months. What was he going to do in the mean time?

Well, he dated Sarah for a few weeks. She was a nice girl, really caring and considerate, though that was almost a given for a Hufflepuff. Still, it was refreshing after so much time spent with an acerbic git. 

They broke up amicably, Sarah saying that she wanted more from a relationship and didn’t think John was as romantically attached. They still talked though, and even went to Hogsmeade a few times to have chats about their lives.

The next girl John dated was named  Jeanette, a rather clever Ravenclaw with dark curly hair and thick glasses. John stopped dating her as soon as he realized how similar she looked to Sherlock. She was even taller than him by a good foot. 

At one point, Anderson was trying to get into John’s pants, which was weird beyond belief. John had never even talked to Anderson for God’s sake!

Anyway, after that rather unpleasant experience, John swore off dating and became a social recluse, lurking in the library far more than he had before. He talked to Remus who could be found hiding there as well, but asides from that, as well as a few conversations with Mike and Molly, he was a hermit. 

Before long, it was nearing mid-February. John couldn’t help but jump, every time the library doors were opened. It was rather pathetic really. He didn’t realize how socially dependent he had been on Sherlock. 

It was February 10 th , only four days from the exact middle of February, when John came out of the library to head to the Great Hall for dinner. On his way, he bum ped into a ridiculously tall student , who caught him and set him on his feet.

“Thanks,” John said, taking a step back. The  teen in front of him was a solid two heads taller than him, with  lithe muscles hidden under a Hogwarts uniform. His hair was dark, curly, and long enough to be tied back, though a few curls had escaped and were hanging by his face. A rather familiar face, with large glasses. “Good God, you’re attractive,” John said bluntly. “Are you a new student?” John smiled, “I’m John, by the way. John Watson.”

  
“Yes?” the deep voice rumbled. Oh God. No. Not-

“Sherlock?” John asked, utterly startled.

“Yes?”

“Were you flirting with me?” Sherlock asked, looking adorably confused.

“Sorry. Um.” John blushed, trying to find a reasonable answer.

“No, um. It’s. I don’t mind.” Sherlock stuttered, lisping slightly.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“So you’re back from France?” John asked, leaning against the wall. God, but Sherlock had grown into his frame. And the hair was ridiculously sexy. What the fuck had happened in France?

“Obviously,” Sherlock drawled.

John shuddered. “Ugh, don’t say that, you sound like Snape.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Dull. To be honest, it was dull. I had Grandmère, Mummy and Mycroft doting on me, all day every day, so most days I went out to the community gym to go swimming. Mycroft has a phobia of water, so it’s dead useful.”

John snorted. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? And I’m guessing the hair is an act of rebellion too?”

“Actually, no,” Sherlock smiled. “Grandmère insisted I grow out my hair, since she said that when it was short it would only get puffy. How is Potions class?”

“Dull,” John mimicked. “Slughorn went easy on us after the Winter Break, which, by the way, mister,  you never said goodbye. After I  explicitly told you to, you arse. You could’ve been dead for all I knew!”

“Well obviously I’m not.” Sherlock pointed out astutely. “Mycroft didn’t want to bother watching the match, so he took me before anyone had even gotten a point. Terribly sorry to miss it, though. Mycroft was really confused as to why I wanted to watch  sports. ” He chuckled lightly.

“I bet,” John answered. 

They paused for a beat.

“So when you said-“

“Did you really mean- “ John interrupted. “Sorry. I mean. Go on.”

Sherlock made an incomprehensible sound. “Uh.  Didyoujust - butwhatabout - I’mjust -flirting?”

“What?”

“Flirting? You were, then?” Sherlock sounded hopelessly confused.

“….. Yeah… . ?”

  
They paused again, though this time tension filled the air.

John bit his lip, and decided to be brave like the trait his House was known for.  He pushed Sherlock against the wall, going up on his toes and bringing the Ravenclaw’s head down so their lips could meet. Sherlock gave out a minor strangled noise that quickly became a sigh of contentment. Sherlock cradled John’s head with one hand and grasped his shoulder with the other, flipping them so he was pinning the blond against the wall. Finally their lips parted.

“Okay.” John said.

“Good?” Sherlock asked, panting slightly.

“I’m going to need more data,” John smirked, and pulled Sherlock down for round two.

 


End file.
